The Dark Lord on his Dark Throne
by Darth T-Rex
Summary: An alternate ending to the film trilogy in which the Fellowship arrive at Mount Doom to destroy the Ring. But Sauron has plans of his own. Please R & R! I will be eternally grateful!
1. Mount Doom

Disclaimer: I'm neither Tolkien nor Peter Jackson.  
  
Note: Okay, I'm new to LOTR, so forgive me if I get stuff wrong. This fanfic is based entirely on the films and not the books. This is what would happen if Sauron captured the Fellowship and company. The major difference is that when Frodo and Sam go to cast the ring in the fires of Mount Doom, Aragorn, Arwen, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf, Merry and Pippin run in on a lower platform of rock across a ravine, having entered Mount Doom on it's other face. The Ringwraiths have followed them, and now with the Ring so close to where it was forged, the spirit of Sauron takes physical form, energised by the one Ring. Also, neither Lurtz nor Uglúk died. They were some other uruk- hai, right? O_o  
  
There are lots of lines from the films in here, but I'm not trying to claim them for my own. I'm just paying homage to them.  
  
Well, here goes.  
"Frodo, cast it into the fire!" Gandalf the White shouted up at the young hobbit, his elderly face intense and taught.  
  
Frodo Baggins rolled the golden ring between his thumb and forefinger. A wisp of flame from the chasm below passed it, and the Black Speech markings resurfaced. Frodo could not read the language of Mordor, but he knew very well what it said.  
  
There was a screech from below.  
  
Sam pointed wildly, "Look, Mister Frodo!"  
  
Nine black figures, wrapped in dull robes and brandishing steel swords, had charged into the mountain's interior, onto the lower platform. They screeched and screamed as they attacked Frodo's friends. The Ringwraiths were even bolder now than they were normally, fearing the One Ring was about to be lost. Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Arwen drew their own blades and fought back whilst Merry and Pippin back off warily.  
  
"What are you waiting for, Mister Frodo?" Sam asked, "Get rid of it! Help them!"  
  
Even as he spoke, Arwen gasped as the point of a Ringwraith sword plunged into her shoulder. It was only a minor cut, but the Ringwraith prepared to strike again.  
  
Aragorn's weapon slashed at its cloak, and it howled in rage. But there was nothing within the robe for Aragorn to cut, and it lunged forward, leading its comrades into battle.  
  
Gandalf stood calmly in the way of the Nine, and he spoke to them as if they were harmless rather than the opposite, "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor. The Dark Lord will not avail you, Kings of Witches!"  
  
With that, the end of his staff burst into blue flame. The Nazgûl were consumed by the lilac fire, and they fled screaming from Mount Doom.  
  
"Most impressive, Gandalf the White".  
  
The voice was a roar, a bellow from another time and age. It seemed to be coming form the cracks below, from which fire blew in angry red waves. It began to rise in a whirling vortex of lethal energy.  
  
"But not enough".  
  
Gandalf watched it in fear, then looked up at Frodo, "Now, quickly!"  
  
Frodo blinked.  
  
"Now!" the wizard ordered.  
  
The young hobbit threw the Ring. It somersaulted away, over the edge of the rocky precipice.  
  
"Too late now. Far too late", the voice sneered.  
  
From the tornado of flames a hand was formed. It seized the falling Ring and continued its advance.  
  
It dawned on the hobbits the identity of the spirit forming before them, as their companions knew very well what it was beforehand. As the torrent of flickering rage reached the platform on which Frodo and Sam watched, it began to take a monstrous shape.  
  
Suddenly, the fire ceased burning. Where it had been stood something far more dangerous. It was barely a few feet away from Frodo and Sam, and facing in their direction.  
  
It was humanoid in form, but much greater, twice as large as the tallest man. A billowing black cape only emphasised this. Dull-grey armour encased the creature, with large spikes protruding in various places. In its right hand it gripped a huge mace.  
  
But it was the head that captured Frodo's attention. The silver helmet was monstrous and twisted, as large as him. Six horns rose off the top. Two small black shields covered lidless eyes, wreathed in flame.  
  
Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor, laughed. It shook the cavern, causing rocks to crumble and fall into the fires below and filling those around him with fear. He held the Ring in his thick fingers, gloating harshly.  
  
"You have returned to the hand of your Master", he hissed.  
  
The fires of Mount Doom seemed to burn with an even greater intensity. From the distant outside, there were the triumphant screams of the Nazgûl. A low chanting came from the Ring as it neared Sauron's finger;  
  
"Ash nazg durbatulûk,  
  
ash nazg gimbatulûk,  
  
ash nazg thrakatulûk agh  
  
burzum-ishi krimpatul!"  
  
But the Ring never reached the finger.  
  
There was a twang, followed by a whistling. An arrow, fired by the precision-minded Legolas, stuck into Sauron's finger, who roared in surprise and fury as he the Ring fell from his grasp, onto the stone floor.  
  
Sauron yanked the arrow out and snapped it. He wheeled about, facing the elf and his companions, then charged forward and leapt clean across the ravine, crashing down before them. The mace swung in his huge hands. Legolas flew backwards with a cry.  
  
"Nooo!" Gimli bellowed, and hewed his axe at the Enemy's knee.  
  
An instant later he too lay crumpled on the floor.  
  
Frodo and Sam watched in horror as Sauron lumbered forward, this time towards Gandalf, who thrust his staff forward. The Dark Lord was bowled over, hitting the bare rock with a crash, his robes flapping wildly.  
  
But any thoughts of hope were quashed as Sauron leapt back up and brought his club down hard towards the wizard. An intense but brief battle followed, as Gandalf used his years of studying in the field of magic against the deadly combination of Sauron's brute strength and dark sorcery.  
  
Aragorn, Arwen, Merry and Pippin came in to aid their friend, but they could not contend with the will of Sauron. They joined the White Wizard in a pile of crumpled bodies.  
  
Frodo suddenly realized his one chance to end the destruction of his friends. He leapt forwards, towards the One Ring. But he was too slow.  
  
It flew across the ravine, into the clenched hand of Sauron.  
  
"And now", the Dark Lord laughed, "After these millennia three, it is mine once more".  
  
He slipped the Ring onto his finger. 


	2. The fortress of Mordor

Author's note: Thanks to Artemis, The Puppet Killer, Skull Bearer and Matita Pere for reviewing. I will explain what happened to Gollum soon. The story will end happily, I promise!  
  
The fortress of Barad-Dûr was treated to a sight it had not seen for three thousand years. The Dark Lord Sauron walked through its winding corridors, which were lined by a seemingly endless mass of Mordor orcs, saluting him as he passed.  
  
Following behind him were several other figures. First and foremost was Saruman, the white wizard who had taken orders from Sauron. At his side was Grima Wormtongue, who had once been the adviser to the King of Rohan, but had secretly been in league with Saruman.  
  
Two larger and more physically imposing beings followed behind. They were orcs, but somewhat greater than their Mordor relatives. Lurtz and Uglúk, the sole survivors of the fighting Uruk-Hai, growled and snarled at their rudimentary predecessors as they passed them. The war-hardened leaders had been the only Uruk-Hai to return from the Battle for Helm's Deep.  
  
Sauron entered his throne room, and crossed to his black and grey chair. The throne was decorated with a twisted, sickening form of art, like that of Sauron's armour. The Lord of Mordor sat down, facing his companions, who bowed down to him elaborately.  
  
"What is thy bidding, my Lord?" Saruman chorused.  
  
Sauron looked at Lurtz, "I command a military update, orc".  
  
Lurtz's distaste at the word was only too obvious, but even the fierce and impulsive Uruk-Hai knew better than to antagonise the Black Hand of Mordor, "The orc armies are too weak to conquer land and then rule it. They are strong in number but not individually. They are incapable".  
  
Uglúk growled in agreement.  
  
Sauron did not reply, instead he raised his armoured head and roared, "Gorlash!"  
  
An orc burst into the room and bowed.  
  
"Gorlash, take five thousand troops and harvest the riches of Mordor. Set the troops to work, building a factory to breed an army of Uruk-Hai".  
  
The orc hesitated, seeing the triumphant smiles on the faces of Lurtz and Uglúk and detesting them, but then remembered his priority and wheeled around and scuttled off to do his Master's bidding.  
  
Sauron looked back at Lurtz, "The orcs will conquer the land whilst the Uruk-Hai army grows here. When you are strong enough in number, you shall occupy the lands and rule with an iron fist. The Uruk-Hai will have their day".  
  
Lurtz and Uglúk howled in favour. Saruman cleared his throat, "My Lord, I have another pressing matter to bring to your attention", he removed a parchment from his robes and unrolled it, revealing a map of Middle-Earth, which he pointed to as he spoke, "I think it would be wise if we kept our troops flowing in all directions rather than concentrate on one. We do not want any resistance building up. Already, borders are falling and kingdoms are collapsing. Gondor will be first. Followed by."  
  
He gasped and dropped the scroll as it burst into flames. It fell to the floor, twisting and crackling as it burnt. Yet somehow it remained undamaged. The flame disappeared in a puff of smoke, and the map was left intact.  
  
But it was different.  
  
The borders of kingdoms and lands had gone, the labelling and annotations no more. In there place was one simple word that presided over all of the diagram of Middle-Earth:  
  
Mordor.  
  
"It matters not which lands I attack first, Saruman the White", Sauron boomed, "My mistake of the past was to leave the details to my minions. I intend to correct this error. I will be at the head of the orc army. Why should I leave my campaign to lesser minds?"  
  
Saruman, Grima and the two Uruk-Hai each felt the eyes of red flame pass over them, branding them each insignificant and foolish.  
  
Sauron rose off his throne, armour and chain mail clanking, and pointed at Lurtz and Uglúk, "You two, bring some of the prisoners to me".  
  
There was a pause, which was eventually broken when Uglúk ventured, "Which, my Lord?"  
  
"The former Ring bearer", Sauron roared, "The she-elf. And", he clenched a giant fist into a tight ball of metal, "Isildur's heir!"  
  
***  
  
Aragorn awoke. His mouth was thick with blood, his vision blurred by the crimson liquid. He wiped at his face so as to clarify where he was, and discovered he was in a dirty, derelict cell that looked like it had not been used for thousands of years, which it probably hadn't. He could not see more than a few feet ahead of him.  
  
Something stirred in the darkness.  
  
His hand flew to the hilt of his sword, or where it would have been if the sheath were not empty. He braced himself, ready for an attack from whatever monstrous creature he was being forced to face.  
  
"He's awake!"  
  
He instantly recognized the voice.  
  
"Arwen!"  
  
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out his love. Also, several other figures, and it became clear that they were his companions. They were all slouched down, weapon-less, bruised and bloody, but alive. Which was more than could be said for the majority of those who had faced Sauron in combat.  
  
A dull flame flickered outside the cell bars, produced by a torch. Aragorn could make out two huge, bulky figures silhouetted against the fire.  
  
"Those are our guards", Gandalf said, sensing Aragorn's curiosity at them, "Trolls".  
  
There were numerous grunts and snorts coming from the beasts, and the sickening crunch of bones. It was evident that they were devouring some creature, probably an orc, that had been fed to them.  
  
"Where are our weapons?" Aragorn asked.  
  
"On a rack just beyond the trolls", Legolas answered.  
  
Aragorn looked at his friends. Each were deep in their own thoughts. Gimli was furious at their capture and wanted desperately to escape and take some of Sauron's minions down with him. Legolas and Gandalf were subdued physically, but inside both were racking their brains to find a means of escape. Frodo was bitterly blaming himself for their capture and the return of Sauron. Sam, Merry and Pippin were scared in a way they had never felt possible. And Arwen was concerned for Aragorn, for he had received the worst blow from Sauron in their battle.  
  
Their musings were interrupted by a roar from the trolls as they rose to their feet. Two Uruk-Hai unlocked the cell door and stood there, growling.  
  
The hobbits quickly scrambled to their feet, but none of the others seemed to take great notice in the two orcs as they stepped forward. Lurtz grabbed Frodo by the shirt and pushed him out of the cell roughly. Arwen got the same treatment.  
  
Uglúk glared down at Aragorn and barked, "Get up!"  
  
Aragorn looked up defiantly.  
  
Uglúk did not like the rebellious blaze he saw in Aragorn's eyes. He hissed and gave the Ranger a brutal kick to the ribs.  
  
Aragorn leapt up and punched the Uruk-Hai squarely in its hideous face. Uglúk was unprepared for the vicious assault, and fell back, one huge fang dropping to the floor from his mouth. Lurtz roared and threw himself at Aragorn. Gimli shot to his feet and barred the way, but Lurtz sidestepped and seized Aragorn by the throat before head-butting him, rendering him unconscious.  
  
***  
  
When the Strider awoke, he was moving, but not of his own free will. He was being dragged along dreary corridors by the two orcs, along with Arwen and Frodo. Up ahead was a black double-door.  
  
Lurtz and Uglúk shoved them through, then turned and left, closing the doors after them. Aragorn struggled to stand upright, still dazed from his reprimand from the Uruk leader. He could see he was in a dark, black room, which was only lit by two torches on the wall. Twisted art decorated the walls.  
  
Sauron laughed.  
  
He was facing them, sitting on his throne. They were alone with the Dark Lord of Mordor.  
  
He rose up and stomped forward, heavy footfalls meeting the floor with a crash. When he was within a few feet of Frodo, he looked down at the hobbit from his great height.  
  
"Frodo Baggins of the Shire", he mocked, "Frodo Baggins, former Ring- bearer".  
  
The hobbit glared up at the Dark Lord, searching deep within himself for any stores of confidence he had left.  
  
Sauron inspected the index finger of his right hand, on which was the Ring, "We thank thee, Frodo, for the absolute loyalty with which you carried out your duty".  
  
Frodo felt an unease devouring his confidence. There was something about the way Sauron praised him he found terrifying, more so than the ex-God's mace or even Ring.  
  
Sauron leaned down to the young halfling, "But now the task is lifted. The Ring is back in the hands of its Master, and you have done well, o faithful servant of Mordor".  
  
Frodo collapsed. He hit the floor hard and began weeping. Sauron had nearly broken his will.  
  
"And now, you can prove your allegiance to us by joining the ranks of the Black Riders", he gloated.  
  
From the shadows of the room emerged nine figures. Neither Aragorn or Arwen had been aware of the presence of the Nazgûl, and watched in fear as they melted out of the darkness. They skulked up to behind their Master.  
  
The Witchking, leader of the Nazgûl, reached inside his robes and produced a knife, a murderous-looking weapon. The dull knife was held firmly in the Wraith's hand as he descended towards Frodo, the point of the blade aimed at his heart.  
  
Sauron hissed, "Hold still, my friend, because this is going to hurt."  
  
Aragorn leaped towards one of the torches on the wall, unhooked it and lunged at the Witchking. The Ringwraiths screeched and scattered as the Strider swung the blaze back and forth, warding the Black Riders off.  
  
Stepping forward, Sauron glared at his minions, "Fools. Fire is not a thing to fear for the servants of the Dark Lord of Mordor. I can twist it to my own use, just as I can anything or anyone. Observe".  
  
With that, the flame stretched and grew, to the size of the room, forming a great and hideous, fiery shape. From a bulky body stretched a pair of bat- like wings, flapping steadily. Two huge burly arms reached for Frodo, Arwen and Aragorn, in one hand was a whip and in the other a sword of flame. The hideous, horned head leaned closer and closer, and the great jaws opened, unleashing a roar that belonged to the depths of the earth.  
  
And then the balrog was gone. The fire on the torch was snuffed out. The Nazgûl took their positions once more around Sauron, who stepped forward.  
  
Arwen hastily helped Frodo to his feet. Aragorn barred the way between the Dark Lord and the hobbit and elf.  
  
"Do not you fear me. Aragorn son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur?" the demy- God demanded to know of the Ranger.  
  
"No".  
  
A throaty roar came from Sauron. He reached down for Aragorn, cursing.  
  
"Why did you summon us here? Simply to kill us? Wouldn't it have been easier to kill us all in the cell?" Aragorn remained unabashed as he faced Sauron.  
  
The armoured monster before him reeled back as if hit. He could never comprehend the defiant insolence of Isildur's heirs, and it was greater with this one more so than any he had observed. The idea of him being questioned by a far weaker creature troubled the Dark Lord.  
  
His gaze suddenly went to Arwen, and there it lingered for a few seconds, as if studying her. Then he stepped back as if greatly stunned, and he sat down heavily on his throne.  
  
After a few minutes of silent contemplation he bellowed, "Lurtz! Uglúk!"  
  
The two Uruk-Hai entered the room hastily.  
  
"Take them back to the dungeon".  
  
Lurtz looked at Uglúk and Uglúk at Lurtz, the two obviously not expecting to see the prisoners in one piece. Lurtz grunted and shrugged, then grabbed Aragorn and dragged him away, and Uglúk did the same to Arwen and Frodo.  
  
But as they went, Sauron and Aragorn exchanged a final glance and, although all would find it hard to believe, the Dark Lord seemed to shrink back from the triumphant glint in the Ranger's eyes. 


	3. Dungeons of BaradDur

Author's note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and Artemis for bringing me up to date on what happens in ROTK.  
  
OK, I've changed a few things to fit in with my story. I hope no one will mind too much, but it is a fanFICTION so I'm allowed a little artistic license, right?  
  
#1. After Gollum lead Sam and Frodo to Shelob, he ran off and they didn't see him again.  
  
#2. The history of Sauron and Morgoth. I know that Morgoth was Sauron's mentor etc etc and the Dark Lord of the First Age. I also know he was slain by good guys, an elf I think. But just for the sake of this fanfic, Sauron killed his master, right? ;-) And Sauron had a wife.  
  
Please allow me these changes! The reason why I'm doing it is because Sauron isn't really a character in the books or films, but in this I do want a bit of character in him for this.  
  
Well, now for chapter 3.  
  
Grima and Saruman watched from a distance as the uruk-hai struggled out of their birth-sacks. Already, the orcs were at their apex, deadly and merciless. Two dozen crawled out of their slimy cases and rose up, flexing their muscles as drops of residue hung from their dark skin.  
  
They were in the bowels of Mordor, where an uruk factory had just been finished. The first batch had just been born, and the Mordor orcs kept their distance, knowing their inferiority.  
  
Grima looked up at Saruman, "Lord Sauron's magic creates the uruk-hai even faster than you did, my Lord", he observed.  
  
The white wizard said nothing.  
  
His aide continued, "Within a few days, we will have hundreds of master- bred orcs at our command".  
  
"Not our command, Worm", Saruman sneered, "At HIS command. As my uruk-hai were loyal to the White Hand, so too are these loyal to the Lidless Eye".  
  
Grima understood immediately what Saruman was implying, and was stunned and horrified, "My Lord, Sauron has still need for us! He will not dispose of our services as long as we serve him".  
  
"That is not true".  
  
Saruman and Grima wheeled around to see Sauron coming their way, stomping over the ash floor, for even the deep underground in Mordor is burnt.  
  
Grima yelped. "It seems YOU have outlived your usefulness", Sauron bellowed, staring hard at Grima.  
  
Wormtunge screamed in horror at some unseen pain, then dropped dead to the floor.  
  
"Saruman the White", Sauron growled as he stepped closer, "You are fortunate in that you remain useful and a competent commander".  
  
Saurman dropped to one knee before his Master.  
  
"I place you in charge of breeding and arming the uruks", the Lord of Mordor continued, "With my dark sorcery, the will grow strong and they will grow quickly. Behold".  
  
He outstretched his palm in the direction of the mud embankment from which the uruk-hai were being born. Already, forty were squirming their way out.  
  
The Ring glowed, and a slow chant came from it.  
  
More and more uruk-hai were born, the rates doubling, then tripling in a few minutes until ten times the original amount of uruks being born stood before Saruman, hissing and snarling as they stretched.  
  
"The Worm was wrong", Saruman observed, keeping his tone humble as he rose up off his knee, "In a few days, we will not have hundreds but thousands of uruk-hai ready for war".  
  
Sauron nodded slowly, "They will join the army of Mordor".  
  
He pointed to the lip of the chasm in which they stood, and there Saruman could see an army nearly several thousand strong, marching in formation. Sixty thousand Mordor orcs, armed with bows, scimitars, shields and pikes. Thirty thousand Moria orcs with bows, swords and shields. Six thousand Easterlings wielding shields and axes. Four thousand Southrons armed with spears and bows. A thousand other miscellaneous monsters, such as trained wargs, oliphants and trolls with spears, mallets and axes. Here and there was the banner of Mordor.  
  
The ground shook as the evil soldiers and beasts of the Lidless Eye marched on in an endless river of flesh, bone, metal armour and weapons.  
  
The two generals, Lurtz and Uglúk, were at the head of the troops, their loyalty to Saruman evidently erased and now bound to Sauron. As they lead the beasts past the canyon, they spotted Sauron, halted and saluted. Their charges all did the same, waving weapons, rearing up, snarling, roaring, trumpeting and screaming.  
  
Those with the ability of speech chanted, "Hail to the Lord of Middle- Earth! Hail to the Lord of Middle-Earth!"  
  
Sauron raised his hand in greeting and they cheered with an even greater passion.  
  
The Dark Lord roared, "An army worthy of Mordor!"  
  
***  
  
The dungeon of Barad-Dûr was silent, save for the heavy breathing of the two resting troll guards. In the darkness sat those who had dared to invade Mordor and challenge Sauron.  
  
"Sauron's army swells", Gandalf said eventually, hearing the heavy marching of armoured soldiers.  
  
"Surely by now Rivendell, Lothlórien, Gondor and Rohan realize there is no force that can halt Sauron's army in its tracks?" Legolas pondered.  
  
"That has never stopped them before", Aragorn pointed out, "If Middle-Earth is conquered, neither Númenor nor the elves will have it said it happened due to their lack of trying. Even Sauron concedes this".  
  
"If only there were more dwarves willing to leave the Mountain halls and fight!" reflected Gimli bitterly.  
  
"It is useless to face the wrath of the army of Mordor", Gandalf observed, "As with all dictatorships, if the leader is destroyed so too are its forces", he paused and looked at his companions, regarding them all carefully, "We must destroy Sauron. If the Ring were taken from his hand, then we could dispose of it once and for all in Mount Doom, thus banishing his body and spirit".  
  
"Destroy Sauron?!" Gimli spluttered, "Why, you talk of the impossible, my friend. His power is inconceivable and that of the Ring just as great. He would kill us all in the blink of an eye. And what's more, we cannot escape this wretched cell!"  
  
The debate continued, every one having some point to offer and some foibles of another's plot to point out. Only Frodo turned away. He leaned against the cell walls, his face a picture of misery and suffering. Then he heard a voice.  
  
"My preciousss".  
  
He sat up quickly, searching the area outside of the cell, and there he saw him. Gollum. The gangly creature was creeping past the two slumbering trolls, cursing quietly, unnoticed by Frodo's friends due to their debating.  
  
"The Dark One has the preciousss! It has gone! They took it to him! Yes, they escaped her and took it to him! The filthy little thieves!"  
  
Bubbling up inside Frodo was rage, conceived by his knowledge of the trap Gollum had led them into in Shelob's lair. But there was something else. He could feel pity once more for the little creature as it skulked up to the cell, unaware that Frodo was watching it.  
  
"No, no, no! We should never have tried to hurt Master! He was kind to ussssss! He was our friend! Not like you, I hate you!"  
  
Frodo could not hold back anymore, "Sméagol!"  
  
At once Gollum tensed. He scanned around warily for Frodo, then saw him. He released a hiss that was terrifying simply for it's malice, then lunged at the hobbit, who jumped back from the jail bars to avoid the claws of Gollum.  
  
The terrific commotion attracted the attention of the others, who leapt up to see the spectacle. Sam spat and wringed his hands in anger.  
  
"Master betrayed us!" Gollum howled, "We ought to claw out his eyeses! Filthy little hobbit! Kill him, and the fat hobbit too!"  
  
"No, no, no! We don't know he betrayed us!"  
  
"Yesss we do! He led the nasty men to us! He tried to kill us!"  
  
"Sméagol!" Frodo urged, "Quieten down, don't wake the trolls!"  
  
But it was too late. With great snorts and grunts, the trolls slowly stirred, roused by the noise. Gollum continued his schizophrenic seizure, uncaring of the troll's wrath.  
  
"Sméagol, listen! I didn't betray you! Please listen!" Frodo pleaded.  
  
His friends stood back, not wanting to disturb the hobbit's taming of Sméagol, watching in a mixture of disgust and fascination at the creature. The guards rolled up onto their feet, blinking sleepily.  
  
"This is our last chance to destroy the Ring!" Frodo continued, "Sméagol wants that, it's Gollum who doesn't".  
  
Gollum stopped his attack and listened, wide-eyed.  
  
"I didn't betray you, it was a mistake. The men took you against my will! It's Gollum who wants the Ring, Gollum who laid the trap for me and Sam, Gollum who wants to kill me! Don't listen to him! Sméagol, bring me the white stick", he indicated Gandalf's staff in the rack on the wall, "This is the last chance for Middle-Earth, the last chance to end the threat of Mordor, the last chance for Sméagol to be free of Gollum!"  
  
The two great trolls spotted Gollum and crashed forward, roaring and stretching for him.  
  
"Sméagol, please!"  
  
The lithe little creature did not answer. Instead, he turned around and dashed between the first troll's tree-trunk like legs. He skirted around the other, then leapt for the weapon rack and in his teeth he seized Gandalf's white staff. Once again he evaded the cumbersome monsters with ease, and spat the staff out within reach of the bars.  
  
Gandalf's arm shot out and seized it. He held the point of it to the solid door-lock and uttered a few words. The lock shattered and was gone in a hundred pieces, and the door swung open with a creak. The trolls howled in surprise and turned to this new threat, brandishing their spears eagerly.  
  
The white wizard pointed the shaft at them and uttered a spell softly.  
  
"There harafth armar bygon, There harafth amar tylorn. May eindegar unlauyr hafol, May eindegar unlauyr ragol. Anor, Anor, Anor Anor!"  
  
With that, the trolls turned on each other. One crashed forward and began to gnaw on the other's leg, who bellowed and began to stab his assailant repeatedly with his spear. The prisoners poured out of the cell and dashed to the rack, from which they pulled their weapons and gear.  
  
Gimli brandished his axe and declared, "I've had a slight change of heart. Even if we go down now, I will hew as many orc heads from necks as possible. And to Sauron I say this; bring your pretty face to my axe!" 


	4. Escape from Mordor

Author's note: Hey, thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed.  
  
Hear that, Crimsonelf? READ and review. I don't mind if people don't like my story, in fact criticism helps me to know where I've screwed up. However, what's the point in reviewing a story if you can't be bothered to read it? I explained that I hadn't read all of the books and that I knew it was incorrect. I was brought up to speed by Artemis, who very kindly reviews all my chapters. Flame my story if you like, but READ it first and find out what's wrong with it. I don't give a damn about your personal dislikes, so don't bother moaning to me about them.  
  
Anyway, I 'spose it's on with the next chapter. People are really not going to like me for this. But hey, I think an alliance between basically everyone against Sauron is pretty cool. I don't know if Galadriel can even fight, but it's MY fanfic, MY product of MY warped imagination. LOL. And I've changed Sauron's history for my story.  
Lurtz and Uglúk lead the first batch of uruk-hai, now armoured and armed, down to the dungeons of Barad-Dur. They grunted and snarled on the way, as the winding corridors were a tight fit for two dozen large orcs who desired open battlefields.  
  
"What are we doing to the prisoners?" one uruk asked from behind.  
  
Uglúk answered, "Lord Sauron has no need for them any more. They will be executed and their meat shared around to his servants. Except for the she- elf. He wants 'er".  
  
"Why did he want 'em alive in the first place?" another asked.  
  
"Beats me", Uglúk shrugged wearily.  
  
"Why not the she-elf?" wondered another uruk.  
  
Lurtz snarled fiercely, "Keep your tongues inside your maggoty heads if you're going to question the Dark Lord. We are the fighting uruk-hai, not a rabble of pathetic goblins. We know our place".  
  
There were no more questions, for the wrath of Lurtz was renowned amongst Sauron's forces. He never hesitated to decapitate or disembowel anyone who queried himself or his Master.  
  
Uglúk roared in fury as they arrived at the cell. The two trolls lay slumped on the floor, their carcasses blood-stained. The door was open, the lock smashed on the floor. The cell was empty.  
  
Lurtz leaped over the arm of one of the trolls and inspected the weapons- rack. The various swords, axes, daggers, bows, arrows and staffs were gone. There was no trail left on the stone floor for the uruks to find and follow.  
  
The leader of the uruk-hai unsheathed his broad-bladed sword, wheeled around and bellowed, "Find the prisoners! Find the prisoners!"  
  
***  
  
Sméagol led the way for Frodo and his friends, down through the dungeons and corridors of Barad-Dûr, hopping and leaping through.  
  
From the back, huffing and puffing, Gimli called, "In which direction are we headed. I want to see some orc-heads roll!"  
  
Gandalf raised his hand, and the group halted, then he turned to Gimli and said, "No, Master Dwarf. We must escape from the Dark Tower and from the land of Mordor, and head for Minas Tirith".  
  
Sméagol began dancing up and down excitedly, "Nice men, nice hobbits, nice elvses! We be nice to them and they be nice to us! But not orcses! Not ugly orcses like them!"  
  
From behind a corner sprang twenty Moria orcs, brandishing scimitars. The goblins leaped past Sméagol and towards the warriors, gnashing their teeth and howling.  
  
The lead orc was struck in the forehead by an arrow fired by Legolas. Another received an axe hurled by Gimli in its abdomen. But then the creatures engaged them at close-quarters, and the battle was brief, bloody and intense. Swords ripped orcs from stem to stern, arrows punctured hearts, axes hewed limbs and heads off.  
  
The unsightly pile of disembowelled orcs leaked pools of black blood.  
  
"Keep moving!" Gandalf urged, "That must have been a guard patrol. It is likely we will encounter more on the way out".  
  
As they went, Pippin stumbled in the blood, but regained his balance and kept on going. Up ahead was a crossroad, where there were four different turnings. Gandalf paused at it for a second, then charged off down the one furthest on the left, followed by his companions.  
  
***  
  
Sauron was alone in the throne room of Barad-Dûr. He sat silent and contemplating, looking at the Ring on his finger.  
  
He was thinking about his past.  
  
He had not always been Sauron the Dark Lord of Mordor. He had once been pleasant to behold to the eye and pleasant to know. But then he had become enslaved by Morgoth.  
  
Morgoth, the Dark Lord who had been his master. He remembered clearly the sight of his Lord when he first met him, a giant monster of a creature. Sauron had served him unconditionally and become his most trusted lieutenant. But deep down inside Sauron had always hated him. He had been glad when he had been destroyed. He had hated him for corrupting and enslaving him, hated him for opening him to the power of evil. Hated him for destroying his Jacashore.  
  
Jacashore had been his wife, a beautiful wood-elf with long dark hair, deep brown eyes and always with a stunning smile on her face, for she was bright, cheerful and friendly to all. Sauron had loved her dearly.  
  
But he was forced by Morgoth to leave behind all traces of his former identity to become his servant. He left behind Jacashore, but in his heart, black and cold and twisted though it was, he always yearned to one-day return to her. But it was not to be. Jacashore had been killed in Morgoth's war, and Sauron himself had found her body on the battlefield, a picture of tortured beauty, frozen forever in time by the sword of an orc.  
  
From that moment on, Sauron knew there was nothing for him from his old life. He became even more cruel and vile, going to war for his master but secretly against him also. He knew that the power of the apprentice had outgrown that of the mentor, and he plotted and conspired alone to kill Morgoth and take his place as the Dark Lord of Middle-Earth. When Fingolfin had killed him instead, Sauron knew his time had come. He forgot all about Morgoth and Jacashore and released his wrath upon Middle-Earth.  
  
But now seeing the she-elf in person bought back painful memories. She looked very much like Jacashore, dark hair, pale skin, slim and beautiful. Arwen, that was her name. He wanted her alive. Sauron, the Dark Lord, the Black Hand of Mordor, was going to claim what he considered the greatest prize of all. A new wife.  
  
His thoughts were interrupted when the door swung open, and the orc Gorlash ran in.  
  
"My Lord", he gasped, obviously he had been running, "The prisoners have escaped!"  
  
Sauron was silent and still for a long time.  
  
"My Lord?" Gorlash said.  
  
Sauron still did not move, but whispered, "Find them".  
  
***  
  
Lurtz and Uglûk's command ran down the corridors, until at last they came upon the pile of ripped Moria orcs.  
  
Uglûk kicked a carcass with disgust, "Goblins. Worthless guards and worse soldiers. They'd be better used as grub for the troops rather than warriors".  
  
Lurtz shrugged and charged onwards, but halted as he came to the crossroads. He sniffed for a few seconds, then looked down. Hobbit footprints stained with blood went down the furthest corridor on the left.  
  
Lurtz laughed harshly, "Some warriors. They've left a trail even a dwarf could follow. Let's go!"  
  
The uruks charged on, following the black-blood marked foot stains.  
  
One voiced a concern, "We can't take all of 'em on. We'd get slaughtered!"  
  
Lurtz paused, "You're right", he conceded grudgingly, "You two! Head back, double pace, and get support to ambush 'em as they come out".  
  
Two of the uruks turned about and dashed off. Lurtz grinned, then yelled, "Let's go!" and continued to lead his squadron forward.  
  
***  
  
Gandalf led the Fellowship, Arwen and Sméagol out of the winding corridors and out onto the open ash plains of Mordor.  
  
"We have no hope of being undetected here", the wizard told them, "Our best hope is get out of here as soon as possible".  
  
"How will we do that? The Black Gate of Mordor is closed", Legolas pointed out.  
  
Gandalf did not answer. He raised his hands to his lips, formed a cup and whistled through his fingers. The cry was shrill and loud, yet so high- pitched none around him could hear it.  
  
Merry looked up at him questioningly, "What was tha..."  
  
"There they are! Get them!"  
  
The company wheeled about to see two uruk-hai leading a squadron of heavily armoured and armed Easterlings directly at them.  
  
In the next instance, Lurtz and Uglúk's band of uruks leapt out of the catacombs behind them, brandishing their swords and howling.  
  
A shrill cry from above came. Nine huge, serpentine creatures with bat-like wings were descending upon them, craning their long necks and snapping their robust jaws. On each beast was a Nazgûl.  
  
Gandalf thrust his staff at the Ringwraiths and uttered a low chant. The fell beasts hung back, snarling and hissing, but held off by some unseen force.  
  
"Don't stand there gaping! Fight!" Gandalf said in a half-serious, half- humorous tone.  
  
There was the ringing clash of weapons being drawn. Sméagol leapt up onto the face of an uruk and began clawing and biting. The orc went down, struggling to pry the creature off. Legolas fired his longbow again and again, felling several Easterlings before they reached him. Then he whipped his small dagger out and fought hand-to-hand with the powerful men. Arwen and Gimli fought the uruk-hai, the dwarf even throwing back Uglúk. Aragorn faced off with the brutal Lurtz, who was forced back by the Ranger's lightning quick-sword but did not lose confidence. The hobbits battled just as courageously as anyone else, stabbing with their short swords at Easterling and uruk alike.  
  
But despite their efforts, the company could not hold back the hosts of Mordor. The Nazgûl, led by the Witch-king, mustered their bravery and swooped down towards Gandalf, who fought on desperately sword-to-sword with the wraiths. The Easterlings and uruk-hai were powerful and fearsome, and could not be disheartened. Aragorn went toppling over, pushed back by Lurtz. The giant orc roared and raised his sword, ready to deliver the final blow.  
  
Suddenly, he dropped his sword and fell to his knees, flailing his brawny arms wildly. A host of eagles had descended upon the creatures of Mordor, led by Gwaihir, the giant lord of eagles. The feathered giants pecked and clawed at the infantry, then dived at the Nazgûl and their steeds, who fell back in panic.  
  
With the enemy distracted, several eagles stooped down low, inviting Gandalf and his friends onto their backs. They leapt on, including Sméagol, who had to be coaxed on by Frodo for he was in great fear. As the Witch- king's and Lurtz's company retreated, the birds took flight, beating their great wings in an effort to escape as quickly as possible. And with good reason. It was not long before more orcs spotted them and fired a hail of arrows up at them. Two eagles spiralled to the ground and hit the floor with a sickening thud. The goblins swarmed over them to tuck into warm bird- flesh.  
  
Gwaihir, who was bearing Gandalf, shuddered, "A finer pair of winged creatures there never were. No they are just a meal for scum".  
  
Gandalf nodded, "It shall be so for all of Middle-Earth soon. Unless there is a way to stop the forces of Mordor".  
  
"There may well be", Gwaihir mused.  
  
"What's that?" Pippin yelled, gesturing to just beyond the gates of Mordor.  
  
A great army was assembled. From a distance the distinctive different types of house patterns could be seen. Elves of Rivendell and Lothlorién. Knights of Gondor. Riders of Rohan.  
  
Arwen gasped. Gimli began to laugh heartily. Merry and Pippin hugged each other. Gandalf and Aragorn smiled at each other.  
  
The wizard winked, "Now may well be the time of Sauron's demise".  
  
The eagles headed for the amassed army, who cheered at the sight. Odds of victory were low, but spirits were high. Sauron had cause to fear those of the West. 


	5. Battle of the Black Gates

Um.sorry the last chapter was kinda dumb. This one is not much better. Oh well, I'll let you decide for yourselves :)  
  
Here it goes.  
  
Not since the days of the Last Alliance had the hosts of Mordor received such a challenge as they did now. Knights of Gondor, Riders of Rohan and the last elf-warriors were assembled outside the Black Gate. At the head of the cavalry of Rohan were Théoden, Éomer and Éowyn. The elves were led by Elrond, Celeborn and Galadriel. Bearing the standard for the Knights of Gondor were Faramir and an unfamiliar face for many, Aragorn son of Arathorn. Around him were his friends, Gandalf, Arwen, Legolas, Gimli, Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin.  
  
From atop Barad-dûr, Sauron watched them alone, his gaze fixed on Aragorn. Below him, the orcs, men and beasts in service of him were rallying, brandishing their weapons and fixing their armour into place. Above him, nine winged creatures wheeled, bearing the Ringwraiths.  
  
"My Lord?"  
  
Sauron looked over his shoulder and saw Saruman, wearied after climbing the steps of Barad-dûr.  
  
"We are ready for war".  
  
Sauron nodded, turned and headed down the steps of Barad-dûr.  
  
***  
  
Gandalf, Elrond, Aragorn and Galadriel were conferring on the matter of how to attack the Black Gate when startled cries went up from the army behind them. Lumbering their way forward were the ents of Fangorn Forest. Leading them was one particularly wizened and ancient one.  
  
Gandalf smiled as he saw him coming, "I was rather relying on your arrival Treebeard, my old friend".  
  
The ent nodded slowly, "The ents are going to the land of fire. It is likely none shall ever emerge. But if our destiny is to break down the gate of Mordor, then it shall be done as.", he gave a wry smile, "*hastily* as possible".  
  
Another wild cry went up. A figure had appeared on the Black Gate. Sauron.  
  
The Dark Lord spoke, but not with is voice of deep terror that was associated with him. He talked in a slow, pleasing manner of great charisma.  
  
"Well, this is indeed an honour", he began, "All these strange and wonderous folk of the West have done me the greatest of favours. They have allowed me to gaze upon such dignity and strangeness that has not been seen in the East for a very long time. Why, I see many different races! Elves. Men. Dwarves. Halflings. Wizards. I even have the privilege of meeting the magnificent ents!"  
  
A great hush fell upon the army assembled before him. They listened in silence as Sauron went on. "But tell me, o wonderous folk", he said gently, "What business do you have at the gate of my home? Surely it is not just for my entertainment?"  
  
"Your words are wasted, Dark One!" Gandalf answered harshly, "You know our purpose. We are here to defeat the villains of Mordor".  
  
"Villains? Villains? My dear wizard", Sauron opened his palms in a placating gesture, "I would have thought you would have researched the matter more deeply. My homeland has made no attack! Only defence. Gondor has threatened us for some time, merely because they do not trust the orcs".  
  
The Gondorian men yelled in protest, but Sauron cut them all of in a voice that was quiet and soft yet deafening and commanding to the mind.  
  
"And the attack on the Hornburg? Not of my doing, I assure you! That was the work of Saruman!"  
  
"Whom you now shelter!" Elrond declared.  
  
"I wish no hurt to any living thing, even one so treacherous and vile as the fallen wizard of Isengard! You have hunted him down, and now I protect him until more suitable arrangements can be made. Such as the one I offer now.  
  
"My friends, long have we feuded and fought. And now I say it should come to an end. Are you not sick of the bloodshed? My orc friends are! Enough of their kind has been slain. Why not end the conflict?  
  
"The power of the Ring is not in malice and destruction as foolish legends say it is, but in unity and knowledge. I can lead you all to futures brighter, my Ring and I. What say you? Or do you need time to think it over?"  
  
No answer came for some time. No word was uttered amongst the ranks of the West. Until at last Aragorn stepped forward.  
  
"I speak for all when I say that your speech has deeply affected us, Lord of Mordor. But it is only a thin veil that covers your evil! Are we to trust one such as you, a leader of murderers, pillagers and cannibals! Are we to trust a servant of Morgoth?"  
  
At once, Sauron became dark and terrible once more, his voice deep and bellowing. Lightning flashed and Mount Doom spewed molten lava.  
  
"Servant? SERVANT OF MORGOTH? I am nobody's servant; I am greater than Morgoth in every way! I can see now I've over estimated the Westerners. Clearly they are as stupid as they are naïve! So be it! The forces of Mordor will destroy you, and my orcs will feast of your flesh and my trolls crack your bones! Let it be so!"  
  
With that, he turned and was gone from the gate. There was a great creaking, amounting to a roar, and the gate began to open. Arwen looked at Aragorn and whispered, "Now it ends. We will fight and die together".  
  
The soldiers of the West rallied to the blowing of the horns of their houses. At that moment the beasts of Mordor were revealed as the gate was fully opened.  
  
Orcs, thousands and thousands of orcs, backed up by nearly as many uruk- hai, Easterlings and Southrons. Mounted wargs bounded forward, bearing their orc riders with ease. Oliphants crashed forth; each with a citadel on it's back. And trolls bellowed and roared at the sight of the enemy.  
  
The Ringwraiths circled above, but in their spirals they were getting lower and lower, closer to their foes.  
  
Hails of arrows came from the orc and Southron ranks, but the Westerners raised their shields and most of the projectiles bounced off harmlessly. Then they returned fire, elven and men archers loosening their bowstrings. Orcs dropped, and a great troll staggered forward and crashed down dead, an arrow in between its eyes.  
  
Gimli watched it collapse, and then turned to the one who had fired and yelled, "One for the Lady of the Wood!"  
  
Galadriel smiled back at him, then resumed her firing, this time at wargs. The giant wolf-like creatures were charging at the Riders of Rohan, both the rider and the steed lusting for the blood of its foe. Spears were thrown by the Riders, skewering orcs and wargs alike, before they met in a horrendous clash of swinging swords, braying horses and gnashing wargs.  
  
Next, infantry clashed with infantry. Whilst the orcs of Mordor were not immensely dangerous, there were many thousands of them, and when one was destroyed more took its place. The Southrons were grim and determined, thrusting at the opposing army with their spears. War-hardened and cunning, the Easterlings fought with the savagery of trolls as they bought their heavy axes down onto helm and shield, cracking both. The uruk-hai were armed with broad bladed swords with a hooked end and broad shields, and they were also stronger than even the Easterlings. Snarling and bellowing as they attacked, it was obvious they enjoyed the battle.  
  
But help came from another quarter. The Ents attacked, swinging their long limbs in an un-coordinated but powerful manner. Orcs and men broke like matchsticks once struck, the front line demolished by these most unlikely of foes. Given heart by this aid, the men and elves cheered and fought alongside the Ents, far more organized and supple in their fighting than the orcs.  
  
Trolls attacked, swinging heavy hammers manically. The Ents rushed to intercept them, and the fighting was brutal and exhausting. There were many more trolls than Ents, but they were smaller and their hammers had little effect on the tree-herders of Fangorn Forest.  
  
Merry, although he was ordered to keep back and hide behind a rocky hill with the other hobbits by Gandalf, caught a glimpse of Treebeard. He was wrestling with three trolls bare-knuckled, grunting under the great strain as the creatures of Mordor grabbed hold of him. As Merry watched, Treebeard prised the knotted hand of one troll off him, and then seized the beast and hurled it at the orc ranks, crushing many. One arm now free, he swung a punch into the face of another assailant. The troll went down and did not get back up.  
  
The last troll, confused by his opponent's strength, faltered for a moment. It was his undoing. Treebeard's long-fingered hands seized him by the throat, then hoisted him off the ground and hurled him at an oliphant, which trumpeted, stumbled and fell onto its Southron allies.  
  
***  
  
Sauron watched the battle's progress from his perch in Barad-dûr. It was not going as well as he might have hoped. The folk of the west were hearty and bold, as well as incredibly skilled, driving the lines of orcs back.  
  
But Sauron had more pressing matters on his black mind. A winged Nazgûl approached, hovering just outside the platform on which Sauron was. It was the Witch-king.  
  
"You called, master?" it hissed in a low voice.  
  
"I did. Bring me the she-elf of Rivendell, daughter of Elrond at once. Alive and unspoiled".  
  
The Witch-king's steed wheeled about at once and headed back towards the battle.  
  
***  
  
Aragorn thrust his sword into the chest of an orc, and then yanked it out quickly to parry a blow coming from an Easterling axe. The two men traded blows quickly, until Aragorn decapitated the evil being with a powerful swipe.  
  
Although he was fighting like he had never fought before, out of the corner of his eye he was keeping watch over Arwen. She was gracefully swinging her elven sword in wide arcs, shearing down rows of orcs and men with ease. But Aragorn had vowed never again to let her out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time, so whilst he grappled with a ferocious uruk-hai he still watched her.  
  
Above the hideous clanging and cries of war, a shrill scream sounded, and a winged Nazgûl descended onto the ash plains. Both soldiers of the west and east backed away as the fell beast flexed its talons and bellowed. With a cry, the Witch-king and its steed swooped down towards Arwen.  
  
Aragorn called out her name and rushed to protect her, but many orcs, including uruk-hai, barred his way, gnashing and snarling as they leapt on him, knocking him back and forcing him to halt his charge.  
  
Arwen swiped at the winged creature, and it recoiled slightly. Then it lunged at her and knocked her down, and the Witch-king's iron hand reached out to seize her.  
  
Suddenly, its mount began to wail and shudder. Elrond had thrust his sword deep into its flesh, and it screeched in pain. The Ringwraith turned in his saddle to face this new threat. He stabbed at Elrond with his sword. Elrond parried, leapt nimbly aside another slash and attacked the Black Captain. They fought sword-to-sword, and it seemed neither could win, until the fell beast snapped its neck around to face Elrond and seized him in its jaws.  
  
Arwen screamed. Aragorn watched in horror as the monster bit down. There was the ghastly crunching of bones, and then Elrond lay still. The winged reptile swung its head back and forth, and Elrond was shaken like a rag doll until the great jaws released him and his lifeless form was tossed away.  
  
Arwen watched her father's corpse sail past and land amidst a crowd of cheering orcs. She collapsed to her knees and cried. The grief was strong and unbearable, it made her feel useless and weak, too weak to even lift her head. She put her face in her hands and wept.  
  
The Nazgûl, with a cry of triumph, reached out for her and seized her. He got no resistance as he flung her onto the back of the saddle and yanked on the reins he held. His steed rose up, beating its giant wings rapidly. Aragorn watched in despair as it rode off with it's captive to the tower of Barad-dûr.  
  
***  
  
Sauron and Saruman were conferring on the battle in the Dark Lord's throne room.  
  
"It does not go well", Saruman insisted, "My Lord, we should draw back and defend closer to the tower. Although victory is certain, we could keep more of our forces alive if we withdraw for a short distance".  
  
Sauron was about to reply when he saw the Witch-king approaching outside, so he said, "You are right, Saruman. Direct the battle as you see fit. I have other matters to attend to". Saruman bowed and began to descend the steps of Barad-dûr. As he did, the Witch-king's steed perched on a rail. The Ringwraith hoisted Arwen's limp form up and passed her to Sauron, who flung her over his shoulder.  
  
"I have done as you requested, my Lord", the Nazgûl hissed.  
  
"Return to battle", Sauron commanded.  
  
The wraith turned tail and sped back towards the war.  
  
Arwen was still sobbing. The Dark Lord treaded over to his throne and eased her slowly into it. Then with his hand he gently caressed her face, stroking her cheeks almost tenderly.  
  
The effect on Arwen was instant. She jerked back and cried out. Sauron withdrew his hand and watched her as she quivered before him, cold tears still meandering down her smooth face.  
  
Arwen was stunned. It was said in lore that Sauron's black hand was as scalding as flame, yet she had felt nothing aside the surprisingly gentle brush of his fingers.  
  
What is he doing? Arwen asked herself as Sauron watched her thoughtfully, his armoured head a few feet away from her.  
  
"I know your thoughts", the Dark Lord told her.  
  
She swallowed, fighting back more tears, "I know".  
  
"You are grieving the death of your father".  
  
Arwen could do nothing but nod slowly.  
  
Sauron reared up to his full height, pulling away from her, "A most tragic event".  
  
A hot blaze burned inside Arwen. She wanted to strike the Dark Lord and didn't care if he killed her. She leapt up and hurled herself at him, but he seized her shoulder and held her back. She beat her fists upon his torso plate, wailing.  
  
"You killed him! You killed him! You sent out your Ringwraith friend to kill him!"  
  
Sauron did not flinch or relax her grip on her, "Friend? I do not make friends of my minions, despite what they or others may think. In my years of warring, I have made no friends. And you misunderstand my goal. I did not appoint the Nazgûl to slay Lord Elrond. I did it to bring you to me".  
  
Arwen stopped struggling and looked up at the Dark Lord in a mix of horror and wonder. He laughed, "You are curious, I see? I will tell you more. Come, sit. Rest yourself. You are weary with much toil and sorrow".  
  
He gently eased her back onto his throne. She never took his eyes of him, like a stalked rabbit never takes its eyes off the fox.  
  
"I make no secrets of my past. And I no longer make secrets of my intentions with this war", Sauron gestured out towards the balcony, from which the battle could be clearly seen, "My forces shall conquer Middle- Earth and I will rule it. I will drive the machine of war with the sword and the spear and the iron fist of the orc".  
  
He seemed to grow even larger, filling the room, broad shoulders stretching from wall to wall. Arwen gasped in terror and edged back in her seat. He extended his right arm and held his hand before his face, glaring at the Ring.  
  
But then he became quiet once more, slow and gentle in his movements.  
  
Arwen shuddered as he gingerly reached out with his hand again and stroked her face tenderly, "What do you want from me?"  
  
Sauron did nit answer at once, but continued to caress her face, until he eventually murmured, "Jacashore".  
  
***  
  
Under Saruman's direction, orc squadrons wheeled out large catapults and loaded them with bombs. Lurtz roared and swung his sword, and they fired. The blazing projectiles were flung into the ranks of the West and decimated many.  
  
The wood trolls, hill trolls and olog-hai that were hammering at the enemy foot soldiers suddenly gave way, and a number of larger, broader trolls lumbered forward. Their hide was a deep grey and was cracked, and their arms long and burly. Wielding either a hammer or spear, they began to pulverise men and elves by the dozen. The cave trolls roared and bellowed, worked up by the heat of the battle.  
  
But they were forced back as the Riders of Rohan charged forward, led by Théoden and Éomer. Their swords flashed in unison, and a cave troll fell back, clutching at its stomach in a vain attempt to hold back the black blood gushing out.  
  
Uruk-hai crossbowmen fired, and a rain of bolts fell upon the Knights of Gondor. Many fell, but they responded with their longbows.  
  
A group of armoured oliphants charged onwards, trumpeting and swinging their great heads from right to left. Gandalf the White stepped forward and pointed his staff in their direction. He uttered a low spell, and then there was a blinding white light. The behemoths squealed and wheeled about, rushing in blind terror back the way they had came, crushing many Southrons, Easterlings, uruk-hai and orcs on the way.  
  
As a huge catapult was loaded, Legolas notched an arrow quickly. He stared at it intently from his perch, a small rock. He measured the distance, the timing and the power he needed to do his task. As the catapult's string was stretched and the bomb ignited, he fired. The arrow whistled for several hundred meters before it struck the trigger rope, rendering it impossible to fire. The orc operators squealed in fright, and then the bomb detonated, annihilating them.  
  
Gimli swung his great axe at a crowd of orcs. They fell back, bleeding profusely and twitching in their death throes. A warg got the same treatment, then its rider, and even a troll fell before the might of the stout axe and its stouter wielder.  
  
Legolas turned to Gimli and grinned, "Never have I seen such axe-work, Master dwarf!"  
  
Gimli nodded back at him as he yanked his weapon out of the troll's thick hide, "And I such bow skill".  
  
"What of Aragorn?" Legolas glanced about hurriedly, "He was not so far away a minute ago".  
  
The dwarf mirrored his concern, "I haven't seen him since the fell beast attacked".  
  
"I hope he's alright".  
  
"I wouldn't worry, laddy. He can look after himself better than you or I. I'd be more worried about us".  
  
Even as he spoke, a great platoon of uruk-hai, led by Lurtz and Uglùk, rushed at them, brandishing their swords and roaring.  
  
As elf and dwarf fought on, Aragorn son of Arathorn dashed away from the battle, heading for Barad-dûr. 


	6. The Passing of Hatred and Love

Author's note: I'd like to once again thank everyone who reviewed. Except for my good school mate the Puppet Killer. Nice going, Matt. Blab it all, why don't you. *Mutter mutter* Well, on with the story.  
  
Oh, one more thing. I couldn't resist sneaking a line or twon from Gladiator in here. I just think it's really appropriate. Any, on we go.  
  
Arwen and Sauron faced each other, observing each other closely with mixed feelings. Arwen was curled up in the Dark Lord's throne in an attempt to recoil from Sauron. She was frightened as she had never been in her life, for before her was the most powerful and deadly creature that had ever walked Middle-Earth, yet she was also curious. What was it she was seeing in Sauron now, as he kneeled before her, head slightly bowed, broad shoulders slumped in a submissive manner? Was it some shards of the good and fair Sauron surfacing through, although it had been buried under the debris of darkness for thousands of years? Was it contemplation and memories about his deceased wife, Jacashore? Or was it, she found herself asking over and over, love?  
  
Did the Dark Lord love her?  
  
***  
  
Lightning flashed over the ash plains of Mordor as the orcs and other fell beasts prepared for a final charge against the invaders from the West. They were at last holding their foes off, and now they prepared for a counter- attack to finish them off.  
  
The army of uruk-hai assembled at the front, clad in thick black armour, bearing broad shields, swords with hooked ends and four-meter long pikes. They snarled and bared their teeth at the elves and men, who were only two hundred meters away, attempting to regroup before they were assaulted. There was no protection now from the ents, who had been assailed by an army of trolls and wargs and were in the midst of a fearsome battle.  
  
Lurtz unsheathed his sword, gestured with it to the enemy and roared, "Uruk- hai, attack!"  
  
Ten thousand uruk-hai rushed towards the remnants of the army of the West, lusting for blood and tender innards.  
  
Gandalf and Galadriel observed the charge and pulled their swords from their scabbards.  
  
The elf lady turned to the wizard, "It is as I anticipated. We shall all perish".  
  
Gandalf smiled, "Perhaps. But I've an inkling that Sauron may also be in great peril".  
  
Still, the uruk-hai charged.  
  
***  
  
"Do you love me?"  
  
Sauron did not answer. He looked up to meet her gaze, then cast his glare back down to the floor.  
  
Eventually, he rose up, "You are bolder and less subtle than most of your kindred in your conduct".  
  
Arwen continued to watch him, "Answer me. Do you love me?"  
  
"I am not obliged to answer to anyone, least of all whilst in my homestead."  
  
"ANSWER".  
  
He looked at her again, "Yes, I do. I love you, Arwen Evenstar. I love you as I loved Jacashore".  
  
Arwen did not reply.  
  
Sauron stood up and gestured for her to rise off his throne. She did so, still staring at the menace before her.  
  
"And now", he rumbled, "I have plans. I shall enforce."  
  
The doors flung open. Aragorn rushed in, sword clenched firmly in a two- handed grip. Arwen and Sauron turned to face him.  
  
"The kings of Numénor certainly are persistent and irritating vermin", the Dark Lord snarled.  
  
Aragorn stepped forward, "You made the same mistake as your lackey Saruman, your Lordship. You sent out all your forces and left yourself unguarded".  
  
He twirled the sword effortlessly, beckoning Sauron on.  
  
Sauron shook his bladed head, "You fool. I don't need any guards".  
  
He rose off his throne and opened his palm. From across the room, his mace flew into his hand. He took a few steps forward, the foundations of Barad- dûr shaking as he did so.  
  
Suddenly, he seemed to have a second thought, and he glanced at Arwen, "Wait here. You will be safe. I have work to do", and then he reared up to his full height and shouted, "Ge raukol naké, shergûl, ge oryac mol ashgûl!"  
  
In a flash of blinding white light, he was gone. A low laughing could be heard from across Mordor.  
  
Arwen collapsed into Aragorn's arms, sobbing. The Ranger embraced her, wondering what the Dark Lord had meant when he spoke to Arwen.  
  
"Arwen, stay here", he whispered, "You will be safe. You are in no situation to fight".  
  
He turned and began the descent of Barad-dûr's steps.  
  
"Where are you going?" Arwen called after him.  
  
"Sauron is no coward. He will be waiting for me", he shouted back up.  
  
"But where?"  
  
Aragorn grimaced, "Where my legacy fell".  
  
***  
  
Legolas twirled his twin daggers with amazing dexterity, slashing the throats and bowels of attacking uruk-hai. Suddenly, one large uruk leapt at him, sword raised and teeth bared, knocking him to the floor.  
  
Uglúk snarled in triumph and rose up above the elf, sword ready to deliver the killing blow. Legolas, however, had the advantage of many years of training. He thrust his two daggers into Uglúk's thigh, and the orc bellowed in pain. As the elf nimbly leapt up, the aggravated uruk-hai slammed into him again, knocking him flat.  
  
Legolas seized his and set an arrow to string. As Uglúk dropped down onto him, he fired. The wound was small but the tip of the arrow had touched the heart. With a groan, Uglúk fell to the floor, a steaming carcass.  
  
Legolas yanked his two daggers out of the corpse, but was horrified to see an even larger uruk-hai aiming at him with a large, black bow. It fired, and before Legolas could react he was struck in the shoulder. He fell, clutching at the arrow that had struck him.  
  
Lurtz grinned in triumph. He had witnessed the death of his companion, but he was an uruk-hai, and uruk-hai only noticed the death of friendly units from a tactical standpoint. He felt no sorrow for Uglúk as he trudged towards the elf to finish the job, but he was grateful that Legolas had been distracted long enough for him to get a shot in. If that was to be the result of Uglúk's sacrifice, so be it.  
  
Lurtz put away his bow and unslung his shield from his back and unsheathed his sword. The elf looked up at him in dismay, helpless.  
  
Several other orcs and uruk-hai who had watched the battle slavered at the sight of the blood oozing out of Legolas' wound. Lurtz towered above Legolas and raised his word in the style of an executioner, then declared, "Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!"  
  
As the sword swooped down, a little figure leapt out of the shadows of battle and hurled himself at Lurtz, hollering, "Barük Khazâd! Khazâd ai- menu!" A broad-bladed axe parried the sword before it could strike Legolas.  
  
Lurtz snarled, "Get back, scum!"  
  
Gimli, stalwart as ever in the face of death, heaved his axe with all his might. Lurtz toppled backwards, a vicious look on his face. As he struggled to regain his posture, Gimli rushed at him, axe raised. Lurtz nimbly leapt aside and attacked Gimli's flank, but the dwarf parried and then counter- attacked, bringing his huge axe above his head and letting it drop down towards Lurtz. The uruk-hai raised his shield in defence, but the force of the blow splintered and cracked the shield. It fell apart in Lurtz's grip.  
  
Roaring in rage, the orc attacked again, raining hammer-hard blows with his sword at lightning speed. Gimli parried and dodged, then swung his axe directly at Lurtz's stomach. The uruk-hai howled and fell back, his stomach ripped open. Before the orc could do anything to defend himself, Gimli brought the axe down with amazing force onto the head of Lurtz. His skull cracked and splintered, and the leader of the uruk-hai and Sauron's army fell dead.  
  
The uruk-hai who witnessed the event panicked and fled, yelping and snarling.  
  
Legolas winced in pain as Gimli rushed to his side, "Master elf!" he cried, "You are hurt! Lie still!"  
  
Without warning, he yanked he arrow out of Legolas' shoulder. The elf screamed in pain, as the barbed arrow had yanked out a lot of flesh with it.  
  
Legolas winced again, but then he looked behind Gimli and his eyes widened, "Master dwarf, I fear this may be our last stand".  
  
The uruk-hai had rallied again, followed by many orcs of Mordor and Moria.  
  
The elf sank back and sighed, "There's too many".  
  
Gimli leapt to his feet, "Not while there is room to swing an axe!"  
  
The uruk-hai screamed and rushed at him. The axe swung and two fell back, headless. But more rushed forward and closed in on the dwarf, who fought on, bravely defending his friend to the bitter end.  
  
*** Aragorn rushed up the slopes of Mount Doom, breathing steadily, Andúriel in its sheath. As he reached the opening to the cracks of Mount Doom, he could see flames dancing on the walls and a hideous shadow writhing with them.  
  
He entered Oroduin, and stood before Sauron, who was less than twelve feet away.  
  
Sauron faced him, the flames tinting his armour golden, his robe billowing. Aragorn looked up at the horse-skull helmet, and he was afraid.  
  
The Dark Lord laughed, and Mount Doom seemed to laugh with him, "You are at last afraid, Aragorn son of Arathorn!"  
  
Aragorn nodded, "I am. But bravery is standing up to your fears, not fearlessness".  
  
Sauron seemed to consider this, then he nodded slowly, "I see the line of Kings of Gondor has increased in wisdom. But not so much, otherwise you wouldn't be here".  
  
The Ranger made no reply.  
  
Sauron continued tormenting him, "Are we so different, you and I? You take life when you have to, as do I".  
  
Aragorn spat, "You take life for pleasure".  
  
"Ah, but so do you. Have you not felt the rush of battle, the sheer enjoyment of war and conflict?"  
  
Once again, Aragorn made no reply, because he feared the answer.  
  
The Dark Lord stepped closer, "I can make you great, Aragorn! You can be the Lord of the Western lands, my most trusted lieutenant! You could be magnificent! What say you?"  
  
Aragorn laughed and unsheathed Andúriel, "See this? This is the Sword that was Broken, and has now been reforged. Isildur used it to cut the Ring from you and then fell for your crooked promises and lies. I take not after Isildur, but Elendil the Great!"  
  
"So be it".  
  
Without warning, the Dark Lord swung his mace down at Aragorn, who leapt aside. The ground shook underneath Strider's feet. Sauron swung his mace again in a horizontal arc, and again, and again. Each time Aragorn nimbly dodged him, but he could feel himself beginning to tire with each passing swoop of the studded club.  
  
However, after one huge swipe, the Dark Lord left his chest open and vulnerable. Aragorn seized the chance and leapt upon his chest. Finding a crack in Sauron's breastplate, he thrust Andúriel deep into the Dark Lord's flesh. He could feel the blade go deep past dense slabs of muscle and grate past ribs. Smoke and a burning smell rushed from the wound.  
  
Sauron screamed like a struck animal, and began to swing his mace around in huge, ridiculous arcs. Either by luck or some sense of self-control, he struck Aragorn a minor blow, but it was enough to knock the man off him and to the floor, gasping for breath.  
  
The Dark Lord continued to wield his hammer around madly, dislodging stones from the walls and floor. He soon regained himself and stomped over to Aragorn, his great shadow falling upon him. The Ranger looked up weakly.  
  
"You shall pay for your arrogance!" Sauron roared. He swiped with his mace, and Aragorn lifted his sword up weakly in an attempt to block the blow.  
  
The sword cracked and shattered. Splinters of the blade flew in all directions. Aragorn was left holding only the hilt-shard of the weapon.  
  
Sauron recoiled at the sight of the broken blade. Memories of pain and torturous millennia of being separated from his Ring rushed back to him. Aragorn used the moment of weakness to stagger back to his feet, aching all over, his vision blurred.  
  
The Dark Lord recomposed himself and lunged again, mace high above his bladed helmet as he crashed forward, snarling viscously. Once again he let the hammer fall, and Aragorn dropped to the floor to avoid it.  
  
The Ranger was weak all over, his muscles failing, every movement a torturous one. He tried again to get up, but stumbled and crashed down again. The battle had taken its toll.  
  
Sauron laughed above him, a great, gloating growl of malice as Aragorn coughed up blood. He switched his mace to his left hand and reached down, palm extending, the great black glove reaching for his adversary's throat.  
  
Aragorn summoned up the last of his strength and swung the hilt-shard.  
  
***  
  
"Sixty-three!" Gimli cried as he axed an orc in the stomach. Another goblin rushed at him, drool dripping from its jaws. The axe swung again and it dropped down dead, skull crushed.  
  
But Gimli was exhausted, and the orcs he was facing now were nimble, agile orcs of Moria and strong, brawny uruk-hai. The goblins danced around him, jeering and snapping, darting closer and baiting him, leaping back whenever he moved towards them. But they were tightening the circle. The uruk-hai had little patience for games. They barged through the goblins, sweeping a few heads off in the process with their blades, and attacked Gimli. The dwarf collapsed when one uruk chieftain struck him with his shield. The uruk-hai hollered in triumph.  
  
Suddenly, they looked uncertainly towards Mount Doom. All orcs and other fell beasts turned and quailed. They dropped their weapons and wailed in despair and terror. The Ringwraiths acted swiftly and steered their mounts towards Oroduin, yet even they were afraid.  
  
Gandalff the White climbed a atop a large rock and yelled, "Behold, captains of the west! Now is the time when the Lord of Numéonor reclaims his legacy!"  
  
***  
  
Sauron screeched in pain, a cry of a wounded animal, as his fingers were cut from his hand. They fell like black, pointed raindrops to the floor of Mount Doom, except for one, which had flown especially far. It fell into the cracks of Mount Doom, and merciless golden flames rushed up to engulf it.  
  
The Ring was upon it.  
  
White light crept from crevices in the Dark Lord's armour. It began to gush out, and there was a grinding noise, as if Sauron was being torn to shreds.  
  
Then there was a blinding flash, and Aragorn shielded his eyes. As he did so, there was a cry from the Dark Lord.  
  
"I would have butchered the whole world if only to have made her love me!"  
  
The helmet fell to the floor, empty.  
  
***  
  
Epilogue coming soon! 


End file.
